All the Things She Said
by jasmyn
Summary: Ginny speaks about her relationship with Hermione, and how it changed her life. Songfic to T.A.T.U's All the Things She Said


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All the things she said

Her words, her voice, her laughter. She sits across the table, laughing at something my brother said. Her skin is radiant and flushed. She looks over at me, catching my gaze. She smiles. She has an incredible smile, one that makes the sun shine through the heavy rain clouds. Her energy is pulling me in, and I love the feel of my heartstrings being pulled.

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Being with you has opened my eyes

I felt so alone. After the things Tom did to me, I never thought anyone would want to look at me, be my friend. Harry certainly didn't want anything to do with me. A large part of me thinks he was disgusted by the things he had to do…for me. 

But she, she opened my eyes, and showed me that I'm not alone; I have a friend, a confidant. I never knew how much I needed her. 

I'm so glad she let me know.

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Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise

It was during the summer before my 4th year. We had been keeping constant contact, talking about everything, and nothing. She helped me with my homework, and I kept her up on the twins antics. She came to visit, and it all just seemed perfect. We were laying on my bed, counting the stars we could see out the window. We talked about flying, disappearing, hiding among the stars. She rolled over and said the most beautiful words I've ever heard: 

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Wanna fly to a place where its just you and me

I was shocked and thrilled. My heart skipped a beat, maybe two. She looked so sincere, with the moonlight basking her in a white glow. She looked enchanting. Her lips were pink and pale. Then they were on mine.

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This is not enough

It wasn't enough. One kiss, one hug. One smile, one laugh; it was never enough. 

We would run away, to her dorm, to mine…the broom closet that only showed on Sundays and Thursdays…. She would trace one finger across my jaw, down my throat. One hand would be holding my back, then my breast. Our clothes would be on the floor, in heaped piles. 

She would moan, I would smile. Her mouth would be forceful and hot against mine, bruising my lips. Then it would be soft and sweet, on my neck and collarbone. We would lose ourselves in each other. And I knew I loved her.

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I'm all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed

We've been together now for 4 years now. She graduated last year. Now its my turn. 

My mother keeps asking me why I haven't brought home a boy yet. I can't tell her. I want to, I want to share my relationship with her, with the world. But I can't. Its wrong. Its sinful. I have to let her go, I feel. 

I don't want to. I want to hold her as closed as possible, and listen to her heartbeat; I need to listen to her heartbeat. I want to run away with her, to the moon, maybe just as far away as imaginable. I don't care, as long as I'm with her.

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All the things she said, running through my head

I'm crying, my heart is broken. She left, just up and left. Harsh words were exchanged. She can't do this, she said. She's living a lie: she didn't love me, not really. She didn't care for me, it was all a farce. Things went to far, she said. She told me to live as if the last for years never happened.

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I can try to pretend, I can try to forget

I could try. I could, really. But I don't want to. I need to remember. I need to hold on. She was the only one keeping me from losing myself. I never thought I could live without her, I never wanted to try. I just wanted to comfort her like she comforted me, and love her like I thought she loved me. 

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But its driving me mad, going out of my head

She's making my brother laugh. He smiles and grabs her hand. I can't stand it anymore. I'm going crazy. You're mine, I scream. Mine. Not his, Mine. You belong to me, how dare you! You're mine, damn it. 

Tears fall solemnly down my cheeks. "Honey, are you ok?" my mother asks. "Why are you crying. Is something wrong?"

I realize then, my tirade was not spoken aloud. Feeling humiliated, I run to my room. I need to be alone, I call out.

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Mother looking at me, tell me, what do you see?

"Leave me alone!" 

"Sweetie, are you sure you're ok?" My mother sits down on my bed. "I didn't know you'd take their engagement so hard."

I don't reply. I'm silent.

"I'm so happy for them. You should be too, you know. Think of this way: You're not losing a brother, you're gaining a sister! Isn't that exciting?"

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I ask her softly.

"Why would I think that?" My mother laughs.

"Because," I pause, wondering if I can actually tell her. I feel so betrayed already. "Because, I'm still in love with her." I whisper.

She stares. "No, sweetie. You're not crazy." There's nothing left to say. Mother wraps her loving arms around me, and holds me there till I'm ready to leave her embrace.

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I'm feeling for her, what she's feeling for me

Ginny,

I never meant to hurt you. I know the pain you're going through. I feel it too, but there just isn't a way our relationship could work. I love my parents, Ginny. They would just die if they knew the reality of our relationship. They'd be horrified and disappointed. They'd never speak to me again. As much as I know I couldn't be without you, I'd never be able to live with out them.

Sometimes I think, we could just fly away somewhere, where the sun and the rain come over our face, wash away all the shame. We could just runaway and be free, and not worry about anyone else. It'd be just you and me. 

What we had Ginny, is not something that can just be thrown away. I'm sorry for ever trying to believe that. 

My heart will always be with you. 

Especially when I'm with him.

~Her

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Will I ever be free?

I close my eyes, and breathe in deeply. My heart sings, I can smell her; she's just an inch away. Her voice whispers sweetly in my ear, and my soul relaxes. Her feet brush against mine, cold and soft. Her hands roam over my body, and her lips tug at mine. 

I smile in the aftermath. Her breath is deep, labored. My mind is spinning.

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All the things she said, running through my head…


End file.
